


Spy Wedding

by mirokai



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Found Family, Greg is Sweet, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mycroft is a Softie, Mystrade Monday Prompts, Weddings, but also a spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokai/pseuds/mirokai
Summary: Written for the Mystrade Monday prompt “Are you serious?”Mycroft invites Greg to a wedding.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 20
Kudos: 129





	Spy Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> My first Mystrade Monday piece! The idea for this started out kind of silly and spun into something tender and sweet. I think that may be kind of my “thing”. Hope you enjoy!

“Gregory, do you have plans for the evening of July 17?” 

They were sitting together on the couch in Mycroft’s living room after dinner, Greg reading a book and Mycroft working on his laptop. 

Greg frowned. “Two months from now? Nothing comes immediately to mind. Why?”

Mycroft continued scrolling through whatever he was looking at. “I have been invited to the wedding of a colleague with whom I have worked for a number of years, and encouraged to bring a guest.” 

“Are you serious?” Greg asked, his eyes lighting up. 

Mycroft did not take his eyes off the screen. “There’s certainly no obligation-“

“No, I mean are you seriously inviting me to be your plus one at a  _ spy wedding _ ?”

Now Mycroft looked up to see the look of delight on Greg’s face. He rolled his eyes as he closed the computer and put it on the end table. “It is not a  _ spy wedding _ , Gregory, it is a wedding.” He glanced at Greg, who was wearing an enormous grin. Mycroft sighed. “And the bride happens to hold a bureaucratic position in the Ministry of Transportation.” 

Greg’s grin got even wider. “Do we get code names?” 

“Gregory.” 

“Can I wear a disguise?” 

“ _ Gregory.” _

“Will there be a roll of microfilm hidden in the cake?”

“You know, I think I rescind the invitation.” 

Greg laughed and wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s waist, then hauled the taller man onto his lap and hugged him tightly. “Just fooling, darlin’.” Greg took Mycroft’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and brought his face down to kiss. Mycroft ran a hand through Greg’s hair as they kissed, then gently nipped his lower lip. Greg made an indignant noise and kissed Mycroft’s nose. 

“May I ask a serious question about this not-a-spy-wedding?”

Mycroft rested his forehead against Greg’s in response. 

“Will you dance with me?” Greg asked. “Slow dances,” he hastened to add. “At least one or two?” Greg felt Mycroft’s body tense. “Hm. I suppose that’s a no then,” he said into the silence that started to stretch out. “The British government doesn’t dance?”

Mycroft huffed. “I will have you know that I am accomplished at the waltz and passable at the tango.”

“The tango?” Greg asked, surprised. “I wouldn’t have had you pegged.” 

“A portion of my early career was spent in South America,” Mycroft said, looking at the bit of Greg’s shirt collar that he was fiddling with. 

“Huh. So it’s dancing with me then, in public, that’s the no?” 

Mycroft met Greg’s warm brown eyes again and saw the hurt there, saw the disappointment behind the smile Greg was clearly making himself wear. “Oh, Gregory, no. It’s not - I mean -”

“It’s alright darlin’,” Greg reached up to stroke Mycroft’s cheek. “I’m just glad you’ve asked me. I promise to lay off the dumb spy jokes and we can go as friends if you like.” 

“No, Gregory, you are my friend, but you’re so much more to me than that. I love you. I’m proud to love you. I just…” Mycroft looked away and licked his lips, then sighed and continued more quietly. “For most of my life I’ve been told that who I am and what I want - who I want - is wrong. That it should be hidden away, never discussed, never shown. I think that’s one of the reasons I took to and excelled at my profession: I was so used to concealing so much of myself all the time, that concealing other things came naturally to me.” 

Greg tightened the circle of his arms around Mycroft’s waist. “We’re seen in public together,” he spoke quietly as if afraid to spook this open, vulnerable version of Mycroft, “and I think it’s quite obvious that we’re a couple at times.” Greg thought back to walks holding hands, kisses by the open doors of black sedans. “This is different though, isn’t it?”

Mycroft nodded. “Much as I know that someone could always be watching, and I haven’t tried to evade CCTV cameras, dancing at a wedding feels… different. But, if you’re willing, I would very much like for you to accompany me. There’s no one else… there’s never been anyone else with whom I have wanted to take a step that public.” 

Greg reached up a hand to the back of Mycroft’s neck to draw their faces closer again. “Thank you, darlin’. I would love to go with you, and I’ll take your lead when we’re there. Whatever you feel ready for, I’ll go along. Even if it’s just cake and champagne and enjoying the sight of you in a tux.” He kissed Mycroft seductively, giving the promise of more before pulling away just long enough to add, “As long as I can be secure in the knowledge that I’ll get to rip the tux off you after.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg and Mycroft waited in the receiving line at the wedding reception. Greg kept his hands jammed in the pockets of the tuxedo that had been delivered to him at Mycroft’s house a few days earlier. It fit too perfectly to be rented but Mycroft hadn’t said anything about it, so after trying it on Greg had merely gone to him and kissed him like there was no one else in the universe before whispering “thank you.” 

Greg knew that his posture was not showing the gorgeous clothes to their best effect but he didn’t trust himself to not take Mycroft’s hand or touch his back or his arm. If Greg had thought the man looked gorgeous in a three-piece suit, he had been completely unprepared for the sight of Mycroft Holmes in formalwear. The perfect lines, the elegance, the grace. Greg had barely managed to keep himself from mauling the man before they left the house. But he had promised to take Mycroft’s lead, and he would keep that promise.

They eventually reached the bride and groom, and when the bride saw Mycroft, her entire face lit up. “Mr. Holmes!” she gasped, “I’m so glad you’re here!” 

Mycroft smiled - one of his rare, genuine smiles, Greg noted - and took her hands in his. “Please, Elizabeth, I believe we are on a first name basis on your wedding day. And I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” Mycroft leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I am so happy for you, my dear.” The bride positively glowed, beaming up at him. Mycroft angled himself slightly to include Greg in the conversation. “May I introduce Gregory Lestrade? Gregory, this is Elizabeth Wilkins.” 

Greg stepped forward with a bright smile and shook her outstretched hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, “and congratulations. It was a beautiful ceremony.” Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw Mycroft shake the groom’s hand, then pull the younger man closer and whisper something in his ear. The man’s face fell and he turned pale before Mycroft stepped back and patted him on the shoulder. 

“It’s so nice to meet you in person, Detective Inspector,” Elizabeth was saying with a smile. “Thank you so much for coming.” Greg did not comment on the fact that Mycroft had not used his title when introducing him. 

“We’ll let you get to the rest of your guests, Elizabeth,” Mycroft smiled warmly at her, before placing his hand on Greg’s lower back and guiding him away. 

Greg smiled at the contact and let himself leave his hands out of his pockets. “What did you say to the groom?” he asked, peering up at Mycroft. 

Mycroft flagged a passing waiter and took two champagne flutes off the tray, handing one to Greg. “I may have reminded him that his new wife knows seventeen ways to kill him instantaneously, and informed him that if he ever hurt her, no one would find his body.” 

Greg managed to stifle his laugh, and hid his grin behind a sip of champagne. It  _ was  _ a spy wedding. “You and she seem close,” he said after a minute. 

Mycroft gave a small smile. “I have been… a mentor to her.” 

Greg narrowed his eyes. “And no one walked her down the aisle.” 

Mycroft cleared his throat. “Indeed.” 

“Do you have any other work kids I should know about?” Greg asked. 

“Perhaps a few,” Mycroft said quietly, a blush creeping up from his collar. Greg loved that blush. “I … tend to have a soft spot for the ones who are brilliant and a little broken.” 

Greg’s heart clenched with affection and he sighed. “I won’t do it, but I would very much like to take your hand right now,” he said peering deeply into Mycroft’s beautiful blue-gray eyes. 

Mycroft’s lips parted as he stood frozen, then he quickly emptied the rest of his champagne flute without breaking eye contact. He put the glass down on the table beside him, and reached for Greg’s hand. 

“Dance with me,” he said quietly. 

Greg did not have to be asked twice. He certainly wouldn’t pass up the chance to dance at a spy wedding. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are like a hot toddy for my frozen heart. 


End file.
